Excitant
by Meowmers
Summary: "He gently ran his fingers up the length of her arm, before splaying his hand across her shoulder blades and dragging his palm down her spine. Hermione found she had never wanted to kill someone so desperately until that moment." Hermione wakes up in a body that is not her own, in a time long past, in the arms of a monster. Tomione. M-Rated.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

Hermione Granger found herself having the most wonderful dream. She couldn't grasp just what she was seeing, if she was seeing anything at all really, but she knew she felt lovely and warm. Maybe it was dark, or maybe there was sunshine, she couldn't tell; this was a dream after all, and her dreams seldom held clarity of thought. There was a voice, though she didn't know whose, calling. She couldn't make out its words, but the sound of it engulfed her, and she felt a sharp chill.

The chill stayed, and the warmth very slowly faded away. The voice stayed, growing louder, actually, booming in her head. Her whole body throbbed then, pain and cold filling her senses. She gripped desperately to the warmth but it slipped away, and she was soon aware that the cold was a hard presence at her back, and the throbbing which once resonated throughout her whole body retreated to reside in her head only, pounding against her skull without mercy.

She became increasingly aware of her appendages, sprawled out like a starfish on the cold ground. Where was she? She couldn't open her eyes, the unconscious part of her fearing that whatever was pounding relentlessly against her forehead would escape through her eyes. Instead, she scrunched them shut, twitching her fingers until she was able to clench her fists. Why couldn't she move?

She heard the voice again, once the throbbing in her head gave way for the sound. She relaxed at it, though she didn't know why. What was the voice saying? She strained to listen but heard nothing. Somewhere outside of her consciousness she felt something against her arm. It could be the air, or the ground, or perhaps a hand, closing its fingers around her upper arm and shaking slightly. Was it slightly? Maybe it was violently. She found she couldn't tell the difference, and in a more alert state she might have been frightened by the ghost hand. Who was there?

Pins and needles took over her body, and though she wanted to squirm through the feeling, she still could not move. She pictured television static in her mind, waiting for the feeling to subside. The voice was back, a man's voice she now realized. She didn't recognize it, still distant enough to keep its words secret, but she heard its tone, felt it tumble from this mystery man's mouth and wash over her, covering her, sliding over her unmoving body like velvet.

Her muscles began to ache then, and she rejoiced in the feeling, moving a leg, and then another, and then an arm, and then the other, before blinking her eyes open. Her head still pounded, and she was thankful that the room was dark. Where was she?

The hand was back, resting against her cheek and turning her to face the source. Her eyes blurred, but she could see pale skin. Was that a moving mouth? Perhaps dark hair? She blinked, and blinked again, begging her sight to clear. Who was this man?

Where was she?

She coughed then, only once, but it soon turned into a mess of coughing and hacking, and the hands moved to her shoulders, helping her to turn on her side. When she was done her head throbbed with renewed vigor, and her throat scratched, but she could see clearly. She moved herself up to a sitting position, the hands following her. She looked up to the stranger's face.

Taking a moment to allow herself a good shock, she froze. She was correct in the paleness of his skin, and dark hair did top his head, curling across his forehead and slicked back behind his ears. It was too dark to determine the color of his eyes, though she pictured them red, the same red she had always known.

She wouldn't scream, she decided, her head still throbbing as she threw herself back from him and reached for her wand. It wasn't there. In fact, she wasn't even sure what she was wearing. He looked shocked now, watching her from her spot a few feet away from him. When she tried to speak, to demand he giver her back her wand—because the only explanation for it being out of her possession was that he stole it—she erupted into another coughing fit. She felt his hands on her before she realized he had moved, and she flinched away.

"Don't..." She managed before continuing to hack into her hand._ Don't touch me_, is what she meant to say, but she never quite finished. He pulled his wand out then, she noticed, as she desperately tried to stop coughing, scrambling away to crouch against the wall.

_This is the end,_ she thought. _Everything we've fought for, and Voldemort has still regained his youth and has come to finish us off. _

But her coughing stopped, and her throat cleared, and he put his wand away.

"What are you doing sleeping in the girls bathroom?" He questioned, sounding much kinder than she could have ever imagined.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. "What do you want?"

He looked shocked, though she couldn't imagine why. He narrowed his eyes, walking towards her. She thrust her hand out, shaking her head. She was afraid if she spoke she might cough again so she said nothing. He did stop, surprising her.

"It's me, it's just me. Why are you afraid?" He sounded concerned, Hermione realized, and she let him approach her. He placed his hands on her arms, sliding up to her shoulders, and she nearly screamed. Instead, she flinched.

"Let me take you to the infirmary." He said, and Hermione remained silent. She had no wand, she had already checked thrice. She was at the mercy of the Dark Lord, it seemed, and she prayed to whoever would listen that he would stop this caring business and tell her what he wanted already.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, helping her to stand, and walking her to the entrance of the bathroom. She looked around for a chance or escape. She saw a girl to her side, walking, staring at her with terrified eyes. She couldn't recognize her, though. She had light hair, white blonde, and wavy. She was quite pretty, Hermione thought. Was she with them?

She thought to ask, opening her mouth. The girl did, too, however, and hoping she would introduce herself, Hermione shut her own.

The girl shut her mouth as well.

It was then she realized the boy walking beside the girl, tall, and pale, with dark hair. And then she realized that it wasn't a girl at all. It was her reflection.

She tore out of Voldemort's grasp, rushing to the mirror, holding herself up on the bathroom sink when her knees buckled. She choked a scream, and saw in the reflection that the Dark Lord and come behind her.

"What are you doing, darling, we need to get you to the infirmary."

She ignored his use of darling for her own sanity, and violently shook her head.

"Where am I?" She choked, turning around and backing away from him as much as she could, pressed against the bathroom sink. His brow furrowed, and she thought he looked nothing if not annoyed. He did not seem concerned, though when he spoke, his voice was laced with something sweet and worried that made her feel ill.

"You're in the girls bathroom, I'm just about to escort you to the infirmary."

"Hello?" A voice interrupted. Hermione's eyes, or the eyes of whoever this girl was, snapped to the entrance of the bathroom. Tom whirled around, standing still in front of her. Hermione's breath rushed out of her then, like she had been punched in the stomach, and she gripped the rim of the sink so hard she thought she might break it.

"Professor Dumbledore..." She breathed, and Voldemort cast her a confused glance. Or, was it Voldemort? He was just as she had seen in pictures, the few they had. But Dumbledore only glanced at him and looked to Hermione, as if he posed no threat. Her throat closed up and she felt tears spring to her eyes. What was going on? Why was Dumbledore here? And why did he not care that Voldemort was as well?

"Is everything alright? It's almost curfew."

"I was just about to take Miss Travers to the infirmary, I walked in and she was—"

It was at that moment everything became too much for her, and Hermione fainted.

* * *

The second time Hermione awoke in a strange place was not nearly as traumatic as the first. She found herself in a bed in the infirmary. It look different to what she remembered, especially considering the war. And how could it be so quiet and calm? It unnerved her, and she wondered what had happened before she awoke in that bathroom before Lord Voldemort. And it unnerved her even more when she realized that no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember why she had been unconscious on the bathroom floor.

She looked down at her hands and suddenly realized why she could not remember. _I am not myself, _she thought, staring at her manicured nails. _So, who am I?_

"Oh, dear, you're awake! Heavens sake, you did give us such a fright. What on earth happened to you?" A slim elderly woman approached her bedside, helping Hermione to sit up.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"The infirmary, of course. Drink this." She handed her what Hermione was relieved to discover was a just glass of water. She gulped it down, before setting the half empty glass on the table.

"But, where is everyone?" Why was there no war? That is what she wanted to ask, but she feared the mystery woman's response.

"In class, I imagine, it is a school day, dear."

Hermione's blood ran cold. She suddenly reached out and gripped the woman's arm. How could there be classes in the middle of a war? The woman jumped, and eyed Hermione frightfully, as if she was afraid she might explode. Hermione thought she just might.

"Where am I?" She demanded slowly, and the woman gently laid a hand over Hermione's to pry it off her arm.

"The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, dear. What happened to put you so on edge?"

She didn't respond, taking a moment to think. Hogwarts was in the middle of a war before she woke up in this body on the bathroom floor. If she was body swapped—somehow—that wouldn't change the fact that they were fighting Lord Voldemort, who just so happened to appear ever so comfortingly at her side as she awoke looking as if he had never turned himself into a snake-like monster. And Dumbledore...

But he was dead.

As realization slowly settled over Hermione, she almost hit herself for not realizing it sooner. She found it hard to breathe then, gasping for air as the matron's hands settled over her shoulders, saying things Hermione couldn't bother to comprehend.

"The date?" Hermione wheezed, "What is the date?"

She felt the hands on her shoulders go still, and the woman said, "September 24th, dear."

"The year," Hermione gasped, and the matron gripped her face to look her in the eye.

"1944, dear, can you tell me your name?" She searched Hermione's eyes, and Hermione was terrified that she had no idea who she was now.

"Travers..." She spoke slowly, regaining control on her breath and giving way to numbness. 1944.

"Yes and your first name?" She prompted, but before Hermione had the chance to admit that she had no idea, the doors burst open and two girls rushed in.

The first to her bedside was tall and thin, with light brown hair that fell in beautiful curls over her shoulders. She gripped Hermione's hand in fright, her wide brown eyes brimming with tears.

"Eldora!" She nearly sobbed, and it took Hermione a moment to realize that she was addressing her. She tried to fake a smile in response but found herself incapable.

"Francesca, for goodness sake, she isn't dead! Are you alright, Eldora?" Hermione turned her eyes to the other occupant, a smaller girl, slightly plump with dark hair. "Tom told us all about what happened. Avery would be here of course, but he had classes. I had a free period and Francesca skipped the end of her Herbology class."

Hermione remained silent.

"It's a useless class anyway. Oh, Eldora, we were so worried, are you feeling all right? Do you need anything?"

"Girls!" The matron interrupted, and Hermione troubled herself trying to remember her name until she realized she had never learned it. "Miss Travers is not fit to receive guests, she can't even remember—"

But Hermione knew she couldn't stay there a moment longer. She needed to see Professor Dumbledore, and she couldn't wait here waiting to be caught out. She needed to speak to him.

"Please, Madam," She opted out of using her name, for obvious reasons, "I apologize for the scare. Surely you know how out of sorts one can be when they've just awoken. I had the most terrible dream, you see, before...Mr. Riddle found me" She tried very hard to hide the distaste in the dark Lord's name, "and I suppose I hadn't truly awoken. I'm well now that I've rested, please let me be with my friends? I promise you I require no further treatment."

There was a stunned silence, in which no one spoke. The Matron finally cleared her throat, shooing Hermione and her friends away with her hands, but said nothing. Hermione stood then, Francesca to her right and the other girl she had yet to learn the name of to her left, and they left together, flogging behind Hermione like she was their master.

"Eldora!" The shorter one exclaimed once the doors to the hospital wing had shut behind them. "What on earth was that?"

"What was what?" Hermione replied, wondering what she had said could cause them both to stare at her so in awe.

The taller one laughed, sounding to Hermione quite like bells, "I suppose nights with Tom have influenced you well?"

Hermione almost choked.

The shorter one laughed as well, grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her down the hall, "We should go see him, to let him know you're well. He's worried sick about you, as is Avery—"

"No!" Hermione said, quite a bit louder than she intended. She realized too late she had snatched her hand out of the girl's, and she quickly apologized.

"I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore, it's quite urgent. I'm very sorry, I'll see you both later?"

They went quiet again, before the tall one spoke, "Why are you speaking like that Eldora?" She spoke slowly, her nose scrunching like she smelled something fowl. Hermione contemplated the situation, taking into account the easy way both girls spoke to her.

"It's nothing." She said, trying to acclimate to their tone of voice, "I just need to see him, that's all." They were silent a moment longer, "I'll see you later, we'll...chat?"

They stood there for a moment before the taller one turned, guiding the other girl away, "Come, Druella, Eldora has just had a traumatic experience and will feel better later."

Hermione watched them disappear down the hall, She noticed more students were wandering the hall now, and she could only assume classes were being let out. Dumbledore would be teaching in this time, most likely where Mcgonagall's room was in Hermione's time. She turned on her heel and rushed through the halls. It was loud, and the students looks so very different from her town. The hair styles and the way they seemed to speak to each other made her feel very out of this time.

But of course, she was, so how could she complain?

She found what she assumed was the transfiguration classroom and opened the door slowly. Students were finding their seats and Dumbledore, his beard shorter and his hair ginger, stood at the front, organizing his desk. She strode purposefully to the front of the class, and he caught her eye before she even had the chance to speak.

"Miss Travers," He spoke jovially, "How are you feeling?"

"I need to speak to you, Professor. It's of the utmost importance." There was that look of shock again that people seemed to give her whenever she spoke, and Hermione was becoming increasingly annoyed with it. "I understand you are about to teach your transfiguration class, but this takes priority." And after a pause, she added a desperate "Please."

He watched her thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling as they always used to do, then he nodded. "Wait in my office, I'll give my students something to work on while we talk. I'll be right with you." Then he smiled, and she found herself smiling weakly back.

His office was not unlike the office he had as Headmaster, crowded with knick knacks and a bowl of lemon drops on his desk. The only difference, really, was size and location. She sat down carefully on a small sofa he had in the very back of his office and waited.

She remained silent when he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Is everything all right, Miss Travers?" She hesitated, reaching for her wand before she realized she still didn't have it.

"Could you..." She gestured vaguely with her hands. He waited patiently for her to clarify. "I apologize, professor, but could you please cast a silencing charm? I don't want anyone to hear..."

He hesitated, but nodded nonetheless, waving his wand and casting a quiet _muffiato, _before gesturing for her to speak. He didn't move to sit down, and it was then she realized he was suspicious of her.

"Professor, I only come to you because I don't know who else would understand." She paused, and watched as he nodded for her to continue. Clearing her throat, she spoke again. "I am not Eldora Travers."

He eyed her for a moment, before clearing his throat as well and making his way to the chair behind his desk, "I did believe you were acting rather strangely."

"My name is Hermione Granger." She said, "I don't know what has happened to me, I awoke in that girl's bathroom with—" She almost said his name, the name he used in her time, but caught herself just before the word tumbled over her lips, "Riddle sitting over me. I'm not from here, sir, I'm not from this time."

He nodded.

She couldn't help but let her confusion show, opening and closing her mouth before finally speaking again, "You believe me?"

He was silent.

"Do you actually believe me? I thought..." She faltered, watching him turn his eye to his desk, sitting dreadfully still at his desk. "I thought you wouldn't." She finished rather pitifully.

He was silent for a moment more, but spoke just before she did, "I take it you know me in the future?" He asked, still staring down at his desk.

She nodded quietly.

"Did I confide in you?"

"More in my friend than me, but yes." The thought of Harry brought a fresh wave of emotion to well up in Hermione's throat and she just barely managed to choke it down. If the sudden tensing at the corners of his eyes was any indication, he noticed.

He turned his eyes on her then, "Tell me something only you and I would know."

She paused them, thinking back to everything he had told her in her time in Hogwarts. She couldn't reveal his future, that would be foolish. If she revealed his past, it is quite possible he could suspect her of working with Grindelwald. No, something recent. Something that he hadn't told anyone yet.

"That girl, Myrtle, she died already, right?" He nodded solemnly, "Supposedly by a spider under the possession of a Gryffindor named Hagrid."

"That is public information, Miss Granger, many people know that." She smiled weakly when he used her own name, and continued.

"Yes, but you're own suspicions are private, yes?" He made no move. "You don't believe it was Hagrid. You believe a boy, Tom Riddle, the one who found me, you think he did something."

There was a long, tense silence before he spoke. "Do you think my suspicions have truth to them?"

Hermione frowned, holding his eyes. They had lost their sparkle for the moment, and she could only imagine what he was thinking. If only he knew, she thought, what this boy would become. Would he kill him?

Would she kill him?

"I don't believe I'm at liberty to say, Professor."

It was quiet, silent save for their breathing. Then he shifted in his seat, giving her a smile.

"Quite the predicament you've landed yourself in, Miss Granger."

It wasn't clear to Hermione if he believed her or not, but at that moment, any relative sign that he might trust her was enough. She took a deep breath, standing from the sofa and approaching his desk.

"What do I do? I don't know what is happening, I don't know who this girl is," She frantically gestured to herself, beginning to pace in the small office, "I don't know if she's dead or alive. I haven't the faintest idea who the two girls are who visited me in the hospital wing and everyone keeps staring at me like I'm a firework each time I speak to them!" It wasn't until she felt the steady weight of his hands on her shoulders that she realized he had moved, and she sucked in a breath, holding it in as she met his eyes. He eyed her for a moment, a long one, and very quietly spoke.

"I want to believe you, Miss Travers," At her crestfallen expression, he corrected himself, "Miss Granger."

He turned away from her then, walking towards the door to his classroom. For a terrifying moment, Hermione was sure he was going to ask her to leave, and she lifted a shaking hand to cover her mouth as it twisted into a grimace. Her throat ached and her eyes welled up with tears.

"Something most serious has come up." He spoke from his doorway, "I'm afraid I will have to cancel class today. Remember you have a two foot essay due next class. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned back towards her just in time to catch her wide-eyed look before she smothered it, and she was sure she caught a very brief smile.

"We have much to discuss."

He returned to his desk and Hermione remained standing in the center of his office. He watched here carefully for a few long moments before speaking.

"Miss Granger, may I call you Miss Granger as we are in private?"

"Please" She responded most reverently.

"Miss Granger," He continued, "How do you suppose you got into this predicament?" She heard his tone, the dry sort of discontent that told her he did not completely believe she was telling the truth.

"Do you still not believe me, Professor?" She asked, "What reason would I have to lie? I told you something only you and I would know. What else must I do?"

"You must realize, Miss Granger, that Miss Travers is very close to Mr. Riddle." Hermione paused thoughtfully for a moment, very briefly forgetting who Miss Travers was until she recalled it was the body she now inhabited.

"Is she?" She asked quietly, her eyes staring unfocused and unblinkingly at the floorboards.

"You are." He corrected. There was a very long silence, before he said, "Please, take a seat."

She did. And after another long moment of silence, Hermione spoke once more.

"Tom Riddle is everything you suspect him to be." She spoke resolutely.

"Miss Granger, Please—"

"No." She argued calmly, forcefully. "You won't believe me, so I will make you." she ran her hand through her hair, slightly off put by the sleek of it. She found, funny enough, she missed her bushy hair more than anything at the moment. She stood then, pacing resolutely to his desk and leaning over to make eye contact. "You can read my mind and decide my memories have been planted. You can torture the information out of me and chalk up my lies to loyalty to Riddle. In every way I may try to get you to believe me, you could just as easily throw it away and say that I'm a liar. There is nothing I can do to give you proof." She knelt down then, until her chin was level with the surface of his desk.

"But I'm begging you to trust me, simply on the grounds that I have come to you to ask for help and you don't wish to deny someone help who needs it."

She held his gaze until he spoke again. "I must say, your intelligence is most probably proof enough."

Her brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Miss Travers is not the brightest witch of her age." He said quietly. Hermione frowned, folding her arms on the desk and resting her chin on them.

"Well I was."

"It shows."

She sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes forcefully with her fists. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get back, I don't even remember how I ended up here." She stood suddenly and began pacing the room. "I don't know who this Miss Travers is, what she does, I don't know anyone, and I don't know how to get back." She turned to him. "Could I possibly leave Hogwarts until I learn what to do?"

"I'm afraid not." Dumbledore replied. "Miss Eldora Travers has family she will need to return to, she has friends who will ask questions. We don't know if she is alive with you or not, do we?" Hermione shook her head. "Then we must try to keep her life as normal as we can until we know. We don't want to ruin her life simply because you happened to crash through."

Hermione was quiet.

"Sit down," He offered gently, "I will tell you everything I know about Eldora Travers."

She did as she was asked, and Dumbledore began.

* * *

**Hello Everyone! First of all I want to thank you so much for reading, and then I would like to ask you very graciously to please, please, please leave me a review telling me what you thought! I appreciate any feedback I can get.**

**Also, the title (Excitant) is latin for "reawaken." I felt it was fairly appropriate considering the circumstances of the story.**

**Summary is subject to change, I only have this as a stand in until I can think of something better to use.**

**This story is rated M! And it is a serious M! There isn't going to be anything seriously freaky and I probably won't write out sex scenes, but there are dark themes and there will be implied sexual relations. Just a warning, I figure most of you are fine with that, but I do like to add a bit of a disclaimer.**

**Again thank you so much for reading, and please give me some feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Eldora Travers wasn't quite the brightest girl you'd ever meet, but she was charming in her own right. She was a beautiful girl, if not a bit small for her age and a bit round in the face, but her blood status and social standing made up for any shortcomings in beauty.

Eldora Travers was the only daughter of Michel Travers and the late Helena Travers, and a descendent of one of the purest bloodlines in the wizarding world. She was quite proud of this fact, and was quite adamant about reminding the world of her blood purity at any given moment.

It was no secret that Michel Travers was odd, and dark. When Helena Travers died by what some might consider questionable means, Michel locked himself away in his house. In fact, the only time anyone had seen Michel since his wife died was to see his daughter off at the Hogwarts train her first year.

"He keeps himself very busy in his study," Eldora would say, "He's an intellectual, he makes all sorts of discoveries, and it takes quite a lot of his time."

But when asked what he would research, Eldora would fall uncharacteristically silent. As she got older, she learned to skillfully avoid the subject. But though she chose not to speak of it, people often knew.

The Travers family had been known to dabble in the dark arts centuries back. And the strange unnatural phenomenons that would sometimes occur in or around the Travers manor was very telling of some sort of dark arts. Though some would wonder why, if it was no secret, Eldora loathed to speak of it so much.

Still, Eldora was nothing if not a socialite. She considers herself extremely popular among her housemates, though possibly not the other houses. She didn't particularly mind, though.

"The day I worry about what a group of bottom-dwellers like Gryffindors think of me is the day I will ask you to end my life." She would say.

Eldora's fifth year it was decided she would marry Mr. Avery. Avery, as far as his housemates and even certain neighboring houses were concerned, was a gentleman in every sense of the word. He treated Miss Travers with respect and reverence, and she in return treated him with gentleness and friendliness.

To Eldora's friends Francesca Selwyn and Druella Rosier, they were the prefect couple.

To Eldora herself, it was awfully boring.

Perhaps that's the reason, her sixth year, she became romantically involved with Tom Riddle.

It was all quite a shock when, one night at dinner, Riddle so publicly led her to her seat and kissed her on the lips in front of the great hall. It was even more of a surprise when Avery did nothing to fight for her, and instead let Tom sit beside him and spoke with him calmly and normally as if it had never happened. Since that day, Eldora and Tom had gallivanted around the castle together, spending much of their time together, more affectionate than Avery and Eldora ever were. It was only for a month before the summer, but when everyone came back seventh year, it seemed they were still together, if their very amorous reunion at the platform was a good enough clue.

It was all quite a surprise, really, that Eldora would be with Tom. After all, Tom was the top of their class, and Eldora was far from that. She didn't seem to care much for studying, or reading at all for that matter. She hated classes, she hated reading, she hated studying, and she especially hated testing. So it was rather odd that she would be with the smartest boy in the class.

Some said he was only with her because she made him feel even smarter. Some said opposites attract. And all knew the relationship was a means to an end, for she would wed Avery at the end of their seventh year anyway.

"I don't understand," Hermione interrupted Dumbledore's explanation, "Tom Riddle is incapable of love, he is only capable of hatred, how is it he is romantically involved with someone?"

"Certainly you know it is possible to be with someone without love." Was his response.

"You think he's using her? What for, you've just told me she was an imbecile."

His lips twitched in what she hoped was an almost smile, "Her father, I did tell you he dabbles quite frequently in the dark arts?" Hermione nodded mutely, "I believe he was using her to get to her father's knowledge."

"And most likely still is." Hermione added quietly.

"Under the ruse of a romantic relationship."

Hermione was very quiet.

"Sir." She started, then paused for a time. "You said I should act as Eldora. Do you mean for me to remain romantically involved with Tom Riddle?"

He met her eyes and something of a comforting smile graced his features, "It is best for you to remain as inconspicuous as possible, both for your sake and Miss Travers."

That was his only answer.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably, "So I should continue acting like a dunce? I should sleep with the man who—" She stopped herself before she said something she shouldn't. "Professor," She continued, "I'm not sure I know how to do that. I'm not sure I can."

"Then I only ask for you to do your best." He replied. "In the mean time, we will try to find a way to get you back. I assume that is what you wanted?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Do you remember anything at all that may have occurred to send you here?"

Hermione wracked her brain, but she could not remember anything at all. She shook her head, training her eyes on the floorboards.

"Then for now all we can do is wait for you to remember. It's possible it was quite traumatic and you have blocked it from your memory." He leaned over just slightly in his seat, reattaining her attention, "Miss Granger, you must not worry. I do not believe that while you are in Miss Travers' body you will change much of the future. And I am most optimistic that we will be able to return you somehow to your time."

Hermione managed a weak smile and nodded in return.

"Very well." He said, "I think you should get some rest. Do you know the way to the Slytherin common room?"

"Yes." Hermione responded, but she had no intention of returning to the common room just yet. She stood, smoothed out her robes, and walked quickly to the door. She paused very briefly, and offered a quiet, "Thank you, Professor." As a farewell. Then she opened the door and hurried most ungracefully out of the classroom.

She found, as she walked, that Hogwarts looked just the same as it had in her time, and that comforted her. She ran her hand along the stone wall and imagined for a moment that these empty halls would soon be filled with the students she knew from fifty years in the future.

Of course, that fantasy was quickly suffocated when she remembered that even if she were to return to her time many students would never be walking the halls again. Many lives were lost in the war.

She stopped then. Yes, she thought, the war was over now. She remembered Tom Riddle's body, Harry's victory. Though she didn't remember afterward, she knew it was a start, and that gave her hope. If she could just remember what had happened, then she could return home. If she could just remember...

"Travers?" It took her a moment to respond, so unused to hearing it, but she did manage to respond before it was too late. A girl stood there, Ravenclaw by her robes. She was a rather plain girl, and in her arms she had a pile of books. Hermione was certain she hadn't seen her before, and she felt a brief clench of panic at her heart. What was this girls name?

"Hello." She responded, and then fell silent.

"I heard you were in the hospital wing, are you alright?" She took a step closer, "I heard you were forgetting everything. Francesca wouldn't shut up about it, said you were acting so odd."

"Yes, well..." Hermione just wished she knew this girl's name, "I'm alright now."

"Gave Riddle quite a fright, well, as much as he can be frightened. Avery was a bit of a mess though." Hermione nodded, offering no other response. "Do you remember me then?"

Silence. Panicked silence.

But the girl only smiled, "Sophia Rowle. It's alright."

And then she left without another word. And Hermione, baffled by the girl's calm and unquestioning nature, continued silently along to the Library.

It was Hermione's original intent to try to research her predicament, but time travel was such a broad subject, and she wasn't sure she had ever heard of body switching and time travel all at once. Until she remembered what had happened, research would prove fruitless.

So instead, she tried to find books about regaining lost memories, whether by magic or otherwise, and she also found a book on some sort of meditation that was supposed to help with memory. There was a chance it could be rubbish, but it was worth a try. She would have loved to stay in the library, surrounded by all those books simply for the comfort, but that wasn't something Eldora Travers would do. So instead she piled the books in her arms and started out of the library. As a last minute thought, however, she shrank the books and piled them in the pockets of her robes. She could carry more this way, anyway.

She hurried back to the common room then, hoping not to run into anyone else she should know. She got lost once when she began walking on autopilot and almost went to the Gryffindor tower, but she found her way back. The halls were mostly empty, with only a few students here and there, and when she caught glance at a clock, she saw it was time for dinner, so most students would be in the great hall.

It was one less thing to worry about for the time being.

But what seemed to be a blessing quickly became a curse, because when she came upon the entrance to the Slytherin common room, she didn't know the password. Dumbledore had forgotten to give it to her.

She exhaled sharply, knowing she would have to go back and ask him for the password, possibly even ask another professor, and imagine explaining that. However, thought Hermione, Eldora was not very bright, so perhaps it would not be surprising.

She dreaded having to see all those students, regardless.

She felt a hand settle on the small of her back and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Another hand, familiar hands, clutched her shoulder firmly to keep her from jerking away. "Darling, what's gotten into you?" It must be his signature pet name, Hermione thought, for he had called her nothing but that. Tom Riddle stood, towering over her, looking every bit the perfect boyfriend doting on his beloved. The thought made her sick, so she forcefully shoved it to the back of her mind.

"Tom," She hoped Eldora didn't have some dreadful pet name for him as well, "I'm sorry." She could think of nothing else to say.

"Are you feeling better? I meant to stop by the infirmary, but when I did you were already gone."

"Yes," She spoke quickly, "And I was told I should rest so I really must get to my room."

She made a move to turn away, but his hand settled on the small of her back and didn't allow her space to retreat. She felt very much like a mouse in his embrace.

"I heard you went to Professor Dumbledore, why is that?" Hermione got the distinctive feeling she was being interrogated then, and it took every ounce of her own self control to continue pretending she didn't notice.

"Well," She replied jovially, "I know he came just before I fainted, I wanted to let him know I was alright."

"How considerate of you," He said.

"Yes." She replied.

"And then you went to the library?" He continued, sounding for all intensive purposes only slightly curious, but the say he watched her from lidded eyes made her feel scrutinized and distrusted. "I don't recall you ever reading a book in your life."

Hermione struggled for a response, but found no excuse. So instead she replied, "Yes, and it was as dreadfully boring as I feared it would be." She cringed while speaking, "I am so very tired, Tom, I really must be getting to bed so I can get to classes tomorrow."

"So studious," He said quietly, leaning very, very close to her. "Perhaps whatever happened in the bathroom changed you?"

He was so close Hermione could actually have counted each of his eyelashes and each hair along his hairline if she had wanted. She felt incredibly intimidated, but she imagined that was his intent, shrouded in the pretense of being an amorous lover.

She felt physically ill. She couldn't breathe.

"Perhaps." She replied, wrenching herself so suddenly from his grip that his fingernails actually scraped quite painfully across her back, "Goodnight."

But she had nowhere to go, for she didn't have the password.

"Are you sure you're alright, darling?" He stayed where he was, standing very still and watching her closely.

She smiled then, hoping to save face for her stunt of pulling away. She was certain Eldora Travers would have never pulled away, and she knew she should go closer, possibly even kiss him, but she was too afraid she would purposefully harm him if she did. So she stayed back.

She chose not to think, in that moment, about the pain he would cause in the future. She chose not to think about the people he would kill, the people she was close to that he would kill. Instead she tried, quite fruitlessly, to view him through the eyes of the students of 1942. To them, he was nothing but an intelligent, beautiful student, who was very in love with the very person Hermione now possessed.

"Darling?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione spoke then, knowing it would be most unnatural for her to remain silent for much longer, "I don't mean to be so cold," There was a brief hesitation she hoped he didn't catch, "darling, but I am in no state to be with you, I will be so awful to you, I'm just so tired, you see."

A smile crossed his features then, looking to Hermione unsettlingly genuine, "Of course. Sleep well. We will meet for breakfast?"

She nodded, not trusting words.

"Very well." He said, and just before he turned to walk away, he said, "Fluxweed," and the portrait opened. Hermione waited until he was no longer in sight, some part of her afraid that if she turned her back on him he would attack, and then she scurried through the now open portrait and found the girls dormitories. It took her seven tries to find her own room, which she discovered due to the quite romantic picture of her and Tom on the bedside. Hermione promptly turned that photo down on the table.

She scurried onto the bed and pulled the drapes closed, then pulled out the handful of books in her pocket and dropped them onto the covers and restored them to their normal size. But she didn't read any yet.

She put her head between her knees and sat very still for a very, very long time. Long enough to hear her roommates come in the room and go out twice, then come back in and get ready for bed. She was thankful that they did not interrupt her, for she did not believe she would be able to pretend to be Eldora at the moment.

Her interaction with Tom Riddle played over and over and over and over in her mind. She felt like a fool. But the last thing she expected was to run into him at all, let alone be interrogated.

Goodness, how she missed home. She wondered if her body was still there. Was it cold and lifeless? Did her friends think her dead?

Was she dead?

She missed her parents, who didn't even know she was gone. She missed Harry and Ron, especially Ron. She missed the thought of their life together now that the war had ended. They might have had a family...But she was here trapped in the body of a girl she hated, a girl who was already trapped in the arms of the man who caused more pain and misery in her life than anyone in this school could ever experience in their most terrible nightmares.

A man she almost had to kiss outside the common room.

The green and silver that surrounded her also suffocated her; she saw the colors even with her eyes clenched shut, swirling around behind her eyelids. A symbol of the torment she now would be forced to endure. Just when she though it was over, she's thrown back to the start, and she can't even remember how it happened. She can't even research how to get back, because she doesn't know how she got there in the first place.

She found her wand and cast a _muffiato_ around her bed so she should could cry. It was better to cry now than in front of anyone, when someone could ask her what was wrong. She would have no answer. And Tom Riddle would see the tears for exactly what they were, and his suspicion of her would never end.

So she cried there on that bed that wasn't hers. She cried for her friends that could be mourning her in the future, she cried for the future that was robbed from her, but she cried most especially herself, for what was sure to come.

And when the tears had dried, when her throat was sore from screaming and her chest sore from the sobs, when the sheer intensity with which she lamented left her breathless and exhausted, she began to read. Because while Hermione did not know if she had died in the future, or if anyone knew she was gone but still alive, she did know one thing; that the solution to ones problem can always be found in a book.

The sound of her screaming from just moments before rang in her ears until the light of the very early morning lite up her drapes a brilliant emerald. And then, overcome by exhaustion, she slept.

* * *

**A/N Normally I won't update this close together, but for these first two chapters, I just wanted to get it all out. These first two are basically the opening, and the journey really starts in the next few chapters. I know this one is kind of short, but I needed to end it with the end of the day.**

**Thank you so much for the feedback so far, I love hearing from you guys, and getting all those reviews really inspires me to write more, so please keep them coming! Thank you to everyone who has followed and/or favorited my story, I'm glad it interests you so far! **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, let me know, if you didn't, let me know why :) Thank you!**


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